Chapter 44

Jim said, “Hold on ... let me check.”

There was a commotion. Chairs sliding, feet hitting the floor, a little argument about the phone ... soon settled, doors opening and a shouted, “Frank. I’ll be right back. Come on, David. It’s your deal.”

Door slam, footsteps ... not far ... door opening ... closing ... scuffling feet.

“Still there?”

“Yes ... what’s going on?” I said.

“Lunch ... my office is right next door. These Wendy Burgers are so good David brought his with. Here ... talk to him while I make a deal with the owner.”

David again, “The weather is 87 ... sunny ... water temp in the big lake? 73 for the first two feet... 65 for the next three and 55 to the bottom. You know the house is haunted ... if you believe in that rot.”

“Ooo ... now I’m fascinated ... tell me more.”

A long convoluted and contradictory ‘Local’ story about young girls and drownings and lights and ghosts ... people AND boats. Disappearing bridges, Greeks and their wives ... and the Antler and Wendy ... Wendy ... Wendy.

“Wait ... how many Wendy’s are there?”

“Besides the one that’s going to pick you up at Rockcliffe airport? Maybe an even dozen.”

“Wait? Pick me up?”

“Yes ... prepare to be thrilled. You’re special.”

“Special?”

“Yup ... just got a nod from Jim ... you own the old Austin lake front property.”

“I bought your house?”

“Nope ... different branch of the tree. The Royal Branch.”

“Royal? What’s that mean?”

“That nearly extinct branch used live on an island declared to be an independent country by the United Nations. The island used to be between Burnt, Maple and Bacon Island ... about 2 square miles ... the Princessapality ... When Wendy Austin was on Letterman and joked that Monaco was a Principality because they had a Prince and all her little island had was her ... so she must be a Princess ... since she lived there it must be a Princessapality. It stuck.”

“You said ‘Used to be.’ Isn’t now? What happened?”

“A former President of the United States nuked it.”

“I can tell I’ve been away way too long,”

“You’re going to have Junior tell you what happened. She was the sole survivor.”

“Who is Junior?”

“Your pilot. You should scoot ... Rockcliffe airport ... she’ll be along soon.”

He disconnected.

I turned to Ms Visa ... Carole ... with an e... “Carole ... Rockcliffe airport ... how do I get there? Junior is picking me up.”

“The Princess is picking you up?” She wrestled her cellphone out of my hand, did a short search on Google and punched in numbers.

“Rockcliffe?”

“The Princess is flying in...”

“Yes.”

“Today.”

“Really.”

“She’s picking up Ms. Surprise Flintkote.”

“You’re in the middle of an Ontario ‘Fly-in?’

“200 or so aircraft.”

“Well, that should be interesting.”

She called another number... “I need a cab...”

I raised my hand.

“Something?”

“Yes ... I forgot ... I have a van and driver.”

I walked to the door and shouted, “Charles! I need you.”

“Carole this is Charles, Charles ... Carole ... Charles has been my savior. Tell him.”

So Charles got the lowdown and I thanked Carole with a rather large bill concealed in a handshake and she made me take it back.

“I told you ... you are on the assist list.”

“Well ... you have definitely done that. I don’t call the head very often but I will mention you.”

Rockcliffe wasn’t but 9 minutes from the Visa office ... and they were having a Fly-in. Access was quite difficult ... until I mentioned that ‘Junior’ was picking me up.

And pick me up she did ... a seaplane. As I learned from a much older man watching.

“Yup ... only Junior,” he said. “That’s a Grumman Goose in World War Two British markings ... must be a warbird ... Junior doesn’t cheat.” He wiped an eye, noticed me looking and said, “Allergies.

“What is she doing here?”

“David said she was picking me up.”

That got a look.

Hoping I could stave off questions, I said, “My boat is in Pentwater.”